


Revenge, Stereotypes, and Other Things Found in Libraries

by NaomiJameston



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Happy Ending for all involved, but also sometimes the best, library smut, parties are the worst, squiddy squid squid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:41:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27814741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NaomiJameston/pseuds/NaomiJameston
Summary: “I think that you chose not to run when they came in. A clever girl like you could have gotten out without them noticing.”She shivered. “So why didn’t I?”“I think you wanted to be caught, minx. And I think you wanted me to be the one to do it.”
Relationships: Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Severus Snape, Lavender Brown/Ron Weasley
Comments: 11
Kudos: 176
Collections: Hearts and Cauldrons Gift Exchange





	Revenge, Stereotypes, and Other Things Found in Libraries

**Author's Note:**

  * For [foxyx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxyx/gifts).



The party was in full swing in the ballroom of Malfoy Manor. Couples spun in choreographed dances while others mingled along the sidelines, chatting and sipping beverages of varying strengths. Robes of every color reflected rainbows on the polished floor and the glittering crystal chandeliers threw sparkles over everything. Laughter flowed as easily as wine and everyone seemed to be having a grand time. But Severus stood in the shadows of an overlooking balcony, sipping bitter tea and watching the crowds below him.

The Weasley twins- one missing an ear and the other miraculously recovered from being nearly crushed- were loudly telling a tale. Severus heard his name several times, then one pointed to his missing ear. Severus pressed further back into the obscuring shadow of an oversized decorative plant with an uncomfortable grimace. He hadn’t meant to hit the man. He heard a cheer and the clinking of glasses, then uproarious laughter as one broke. A woman shrieked and more laughter followed. He could hear pounding feet and slamming doors and smothered giggles.

He sneered. It was no wonder that Lucius and Narcissa sat in their high back chairs on a raised dais at the end of the room. Pale and beautiful, they sat nearly as frozen as marble statues. Barely blinking, hardly breathing, they separated themselves from the chaos with a censuring posture and blank faces. Draco had been sitting by them earlier but had disappeared. No doubt the strain of being pulled in two different directions- his friendship with Potter being new and tenuous, while his loyalty to his parents being more obligatory than respectful- had been too much for the young man and he’d beaten a hasty retreat.

Severus snorted. Or he’d found some trollop and didn’t want to offend his parents, who were already on knife’s edge. They certainly hadn’t wanted the first anniversary celebration of the final battle to be in their ballroom. They would have preferred to quietly avoid the day and the memories but, Lucius had told him with disgust, the Minister had suggested that he would be willing to forgo any further jail time if the Malfoys would graciously offer the use of the grand room. Given Voldemort’s heavy presence in the house, many in the Ministry felt that it was right to hold the celebration there, and if things were chaotic, well, that was simply thumbing the collective nose at He Who Didn’t Have One, wasn’t it?

Never mind that by doing so, the spotlight was firmly on the Malfoys and their dubious involvement. And never mind that various Death Eaters who had skirted Azkaban had been specifically invited to this ‘party.’ And that their presence had been compulsory.

At least the chaos was mildly entertaining, Severus considered. The food had been good as well, what little he’d been able to scavenge from the table before the Weasley clan had descended upon it. And the wine, while too spiced for his palate, was free-flowing and a decent vintage. Not the best in Lucius’ cellars to be sure, but not so cheap as to be insulting. The Malfoys knew their place in this charade and they would do precisely what was required and no more.

Severus was glad that he could retreat to the shadows and no one would blink an eye at him. Having the support of The Chosen One had its perks. He’d been sentenced to two months in Azkaban but had been in a coma for longer, so the Wizengamot had considered it time served. Potter’s impassioned speech about Severus’ actions during both wars had cemented him an Order of Merlin, second class. The Granger girl had argued for first class but had been overruled. He snickered. He imagined that must have burned in her gut for some time, but perhaps she had recognized the justice in it and moved on. He snorted and sipped more overly steeped tea. It was doubtful she had. “Moving on” would imply maturity and that certainly couldn’t be expected from a 20-year-old girl.

He watched one of the Weasleys chase another- since they’d left school, he really couldn’t tell them apart anymore- around the buffet tables. They skirted around the punch bowl, barely missing the corner of the table, before the one in the lead slipped on a bit of… something that had been dropped on the floor, and went careening into Alastor Moody’s back. The former Auror, his sanity even less secure than it had been before the war and his near death at the hands of Dolores Umbridge, went mad. Hexes and curses flew through the air wildly, catching a few unlucky souls and turning them violent shades of pink and purple and yellow. Other trigger-happy casters returned fire and the Weasleys, Moody, and many others found themselves prone on the floor. One particular hex struck the chandelier and somehow traveled through the crystals up to the ceiling. From there, the purple sparks of the hex traveled to the walls, along them to the floor, and over the floor tiles to meet up in a center point below the chandelier. 

The room began to spin. Lucius cast his eyes up- either to the heavens or to find Severus, who slid away to stalk down the hallway. Severus was less than disinterested in helping right the battlefield nee ballroom. He’d find another hiding spot that wasn’t overlooking a vertigo-inducing oubliette. He cast a longing gaze in the general direction of the front door. Death Eaters weren’t allowed to leave early and the night was young.

Unfortunately, the ballroom connected the two wings of the house and made escape virtually impossible. He couldn't reach the other wing without passing through the spinning ballroom, which left the rooms in this wing as his only options. There were the bedrooms, of course. He knew all of the secret passages to access the living quarters for the family, but that seemed moot. As soon as the Minister deemed he’d lingered at the party enough, Severus would be gone. But the Minister was trapped in the ballroom with the rest, Severus’ escape would be a long time coming. 

He could wander down to the kitchens but he was sure the poor elves were horrendously overworked and didn’t need an ugly tall human invading their space. Beyond those rooms, there was the back garden- too cold; the observatory- same problem; the conservatory- contrary to popular opinion, his experience with ingredients of varying levels of decay did not actually immunize his olfactory senses and he was not interested in smelling whatever black-thumb Draco had let die in there again. Which left… he sighed. The library. Of course.

He rolled his eyes at himself as he descended the staircase. Truly, if he was being honest with himself, he’d wanted to go to the library the entire time. But how cliched could he possibly be? Of  _ course  _ the former professor, the dark and gloomy spy, the Byronic hero- or so it was whispered by desperate women behind his back- would find himself in the library. The only thing that would make the trope worse, he considered as he opened the library door, was if he was barging in on-

“What are you doing here?” a woman shrieked from her reclining position on the piano bench. She pushed at the man who was thrusting between her thighs until he stopped to look up.

“Godfather,” Draco greeted, pausing his hips’ movements but not releasing the woman below him. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Draco,” the woman whined. Draco ignored her but Severus nodded his chin in her direction without making eye contact.

“Draco, Miss Greengrass,” he said easily. “Might I suggest you vacate the library? There is some commotion in the ballroom and I imagine other guests will find their way here soon.”

“Draco,” Astoria whined louder, gripping Draco’s shirt in her fist. “We can’t-”

“I know,” Draco muttered, stepping back and pulling out of her easily. Severus carefully made himself very interested in the bookshelf to his right, studying the texts as though they were Shakespeare’s sonnets. He pulled a book from the shelf and flipped to a random page, covering the sounds of sliding silk and whispered arguments behind him. Astoria stomped out of the room first, her nose high in the air and her dignity held around her like a shield. She didn’t look at him, but Draco paused as he left.

“Honestly, Snape, could you be more of a spoilsport?” he sneered. He spun on his heel and followed his paramour with an irritated huff. Severus rolled his eyes. Cliche after cliche, and he hated them. But at least the room was finally clear and he could be alone-

“I thought they’d never leave!” a familiar voice exclaimed dramatically from the curtains on the far side of the room. “I have seen far too much of Malfoy’s assets and Astoria’s, too-”

“Miss Granger,” Severus said, pinching the bridge of his nose, “kindly leave. I wish to have solitude and silence.”

She pouted, her face just as young as he remembered and her posture twice as stubborn. Her long blue dress clung to lush curves and left little to the imagination, but in a tasteful, classic way. Her hair had been slicked and drawn away from her face into some sort of French twist, but he could see numerous pins poking out. Even as he watched, one slid completely loose to land somewhere behind her. She didn’t seem to notice, however, and continued pouting at him.

“Please, sir. I can give you silence but I would prefer to remain here.”

He snorted. “From whom are you hiding, if I may ask?”

She hesitated for a moment before answering, “I’m not hiding from anyone. I just like the ambience in the room.”

He lifted an elegant eyebrow. “You truly are a terrible liar.”

She gasped. “Occlumency, sir?”

“No need, Miss Granger; your face gives your thoughts away.” He motioned to the door. “I’m certain you are intelligent enough to avoid whichever Weasley is causing you trouble at the moment. Or your Mr Potter, though I wouldn’t be surprised if Miss Weasley dragged him off somewhere. Regardless, avoid the ballroom. It’s chaos in there.”

He settled on the low couch with the same randomly plucked book and turned to the same page, apparently ignoring her. He didn’t read, though. He was far more fascinated by listening to her attempts to remain silent. He hadn’t realized a person could sit so loudly, but she did, her skirts rustling with every motion of her feet beneath them. Miss Granger was a fiddler apparently and chose tapping feet as her medium. She also bit her lip, the moisture in her mouth making soft smacking sounds as she nibbled. She twisted her fingers too, and pinched at the base of her left hand’s ring finger.

“Is it a good book, sir?” she finally asked. He sneered.

“It would be better if I were alone,” he said. Carefully he turned the page. “Your company is so distracting that I can barely keep my place.”

“What is your book about?”

He raised an eyebrow and turned the book to read her the title: “Barley Production, Wiltshire County Holdings, 1507 - 1522.”

“Oh,” she said haltingly. “That sounds… fascinating.”

“To a keen mind, anything can be, yes,” he responded flippantly. “Do you intend to watch me read it all night?”

“No, of course not! I-” She wrung her hands and looked out the open door where Severus could barely hear that the chaos from the ballroom hadn’t abated. “I’m not ready to go back out there, sir.”

“I haven’t been your professor in years, Miss Granger. You can do without the formalities.” He followed her gaze to the door. “Why don’t you just apparate home?”

“Because…” She sighed. “We were supposed to be a united front. Ron and I, that is.”

“I hadn’t realized there was a Ron and you,” he quipped. “Congratulations-”

“No,” she interrupted. Severus’ gaze snapped to hers, which she dropped to watch herself pinch her ring finger. “There’s no need. I said no.”

He felt himself still, his thoughts warring with each other. He had no particular interest in the Granger girl’s relationship problems. He truly couldn’t care much less about her and he didn’t even like the Weasley boy. He shouldn’t care about what made her shoulders droop and her eyes fall to the floor as though they were too heavy to lift. But something about her called to him. Maybe it was her perfume; it was light and floral but with an undertone of spice. Or maybe it was her hair; she’d done something with it to slick it down. It resembled a helmet more than hair, and he found himself wishing he could run his fingers through it to restore its wildness. Or maybe it was none of that, and she was simply a woman seeking comfort from a man. Or maybe he was just desperate.

He sighed and set the book aside. “Why did you refuse him?”

“He doesn’t love me,” she whispered. Somewhere deep inside him, a spark of something hot and dark began to burn.

“Do you love him?” he asked. She nodded immediately, firmly… then slowed thoughtfully.

“Yes? Yes. I mean…” She stood to pace, throwing her arms up in the air. “What is love, really? Is it longing glances and poetry? Or is it pawing at each other until your clothes are all flung about? Is it holding yourself still until your lover is done so you can cry alone? Is it-”

She broke off with a horrified gasp, slapping her hands across her mouth. Severus flicked his finger at the library door, slamming it closed and locking it.

“Granger…” He sighed. “At the risk of sounding like I care, is that what happened to you?”

“No!” she exclaimed. “No, not at all. Not… Well. Not always?”

He watched her pace for a moment, considering his words carefully. “What do you want love to be? Longing glances and poetry?”

She snorted. “I can’t stand poetry and I’d rather be active in my own relationship, you know? But of the two men who have shown any interest in me, neither has felt right. Neither of them are on my level intellectually. I’m not on theirs physically. We never meshed well.”

“You dated both Potter and Weasley?”

She waved a hand dismissively. “Never Harry. There was a moment when we were on the run that I thought he might have been interested but nothing happened. And neither of them ever really saw me as a person. Ron and Harry, I mean. I was a dictionary, encyclopedia, and thesaurus. I was chef and mother and maid for Ron, but never a partner. And Viktor… Well, we were kids and had nothing in common.”

She flopped down on the armchair next to his loveseat. “I was never excited with either of them. I never wanted to talk to them because I knew they wouldn’t want to talk to me. They’d only want to talk about Quidditch and I’d only want to talk about literally anything else.

“Don’t get me wrong,” she continued, “I like Quidditch, but I don’t follow every player’s stats and I couldn’t tell you offhand which player injured which limb. I don’t care.”

“Nor could they tell you which rune is which, I imagine,” Severus said with a snicker.

“Exactly!” She laughed. “So Ron and I had nothing in common besides our love for Harry and Ginny, and they can only carry a conversation so far. So we drifted apart, but we were still happy. Still in love. Still planning on marrying…”

“Until?” he prompted her when she trailed off.

“Until… we weren’t.” She leaned forward to cradle her head in her hands. “He knelt in front of me with the ring and his smile was so… obligatory. He… He said he was happy but he wasn’t. We weren’t. And I could see our lives stretching ahead of me and I just- I couldn’t do it.”

She laughed bitterly as the tears poured down her cheeks. “He was so relieved when I said no. And we never told anyone that he’d proposed. But Rita Skeeter somehow found out that he’d bought the ring.”

“Oh shite,” Severus said with feeling. He’d been on the wrong end of Skeeter’s pen more than once after the war and that had been less than pleasant. He couldn’t imagine the vitriol Granger had had spewed at her because of that woman. They’d been enemies for years.

“Succinct,” she laughed. “But yes, suddenly we were hounded everywhere we went. Everyone wanted to know about the proposal and when the wedding was and… we agreed to pretend that he hadn’t asked yet and that I didn’t know. But… well. You know Molly.”

“What did Molly do?” he asked with dread.

“Nothing.” She said it with such astonishment and deflated defeat that he longed to reach out and hold her. “She didn’t change her attitude toward me at all, and that’s how I knew. She’d never wanted me for a daughter. Ron had to have told her about his plans and… Anyway. He’s with Lavender now.”

Severus blinked at the abrupt change of subject. “Brown?”

“That’s her. They dated briefly at Hogwarts and I guess they reconnected after I said no. Which leads us to tonight. The three of us were supposed to stick together, just three friends, you know? And they were supposed to be the obvious better couple so I could…” She laughed brokenly. “So I could follow my stereotype and fade into the background with my books and loneliness. God, I’m pathetic.”

“How?” He swallowed the growing rage in his throat to conjure a handkerchief and passed it to her. “In what way could you be the pathetic one in this situation?”

“I believed him. I thought Ron meant it when he said he didn’t want the press to get the wrong idea about me, and him, and… and them.” She blew her nose loudly. “I should have known better. Ronald sodding Weasley can’t handle having anything less than perfect adulation at all times, and he’s not afraid to throw someone under the bus if it’ll make him look better.”

“That… That doesn’t sound like him, Granger.” Hermione chuckled and looked up at him through damp lashes and Severus was struck by both the beauty of her eyes and the anger that raged behind them. And… something more. 

“That’s him. He’s changed since the war, Professor. He’s not the sweet boy he used to be.”

“I’m not your professor,” Severus corrected absently. He steepled his fingers to consider her levelly. “So what are you going to do?”

“Do? About what?”

“The vengeance you’re owed. Young Mr Weasley has given you a golden opportunity to drag his name through the mud before he can do worse to you. You should take it.”

“I don’t want to hurt him,” she said.

“He wants to hurt you.”

“No, of course he doesn’t. He’s just… forgetful?” But she bit her lip as she said it, seemingly fully aware that it was a poor excuse.

Severus snorted. “He’s left you to the wolves. Skeeter is absolutely down there somewhere just waiting to take another bite out of you. So what are you going to do to turn her quill on him?”

“That is the last thing I want to do to anyone, let alone Ron.” She stood with a sigh. “No, I’ll just do what I planned to and find them. I’m sure they’re… somewhere.”

“Do you know what I think, Granger?” he asked casually as she reached the door. Hermione paused.

“I couldn’t begin to imagine,” she said after a long moment.

Severus stood to walk slowly toward her. “I think that you came up here with the express purpose of making him pay. I think that you meant to be caught by someone, anyone, but especially someone he hates. Perhaps you were elated when Draco came in, until you realized he brought Astoria with him.”

She gulped. “That’s not…”

He loomed over her, letting his voluminous robes flow around them both so that she was trapped between him and the door.

“I think that you chose not to run when they came in. A clever girl like you could have gotten out without them noticing.”

She shivered. “So why didn’t I?”

He leaned down to let his breath trail over her collarbone, raising goosebumps as he spoke. “Because, Hermione. It excited you. And Circe knows you need excitement in your life.”

Her breath caught as he brushed his lips over her shoulder.

“I think you wanted to be caught, minx. And I think you wanted me to be the one to do it.”

He lifted her chin with one finger to find her eyes clouded with lust. Her lips were parted and she panted quietly. He leaned down and she lifted upwards on her toes to meet him.

“If you don’t want this, you need to tell me now,” he whispered.

“Please don’t stop. I want this,” she whispered back.

They met in the middle, lips parted and eager. She wove her arms around his neck and he around her back, pulling her tight to his hardness. They fit together as though poured from the same mold. His chest pressed against her puckered nipples and she whimpered into the kiss. He tilted his head to kiss her more deeply, his tongue sweeping in to taste her. He groaned as her hand traced the outline of his cock, pumping him once, twice-

“Stop that or you’ll have me spilling before I’m even inside you.”

She grinned up at him coquettishly. “Well, we wouldn’t want that.”

He nipped at her lip, causing her to laugh aloud. But she gasped as he pulled her dress down in a smooth motion to leave it puddled by her feet. She crossed her arms over her chest and her flushed face grew pale.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I… I’m sorry. I- I know what I look like and… I’m sorry.”

Severus blinked rapidly, his brain struggling to untangle meaning from her stutters. “I want to see you, Hermione. You’re beautiful.”

She snorted but it was broken and tearful. “I’m not. I’m ugly and covered in scars and too… too-”

He pulled her close to hug her as she cried.

“You are none of those things,” he said soothingly, rocking her gently. “I don’t know who could have possibly said such lies about you-”

“Ron.”

“-But I’m going to kill him.” He lifted her chin to make her look at him. “Do you know what I see, Hermione?”

She shook her head slowly.

“I see an incredible young woman. I see someone who has battled and won.” He tapped the scar on her chest. “I see someone who was strong enough to survive Bellatrix Lestrange, may she rot in hell.” He lifted her arm to press a kiss to the angry red words carved on her skin. “And I see a person who is far too good for the likes of Ronald Weasley. He could never appreciate you and you need someone who can.”

“Can you?” she whispered. He leaned down to press a hot kiss to her shoulder, smiling when she shivered. He nibbled at her collarbone, just above the edge of the scar and ran a callused hand over her covered breasts.

“Would you prefer I ignore them?” he asked, tapping the scar. “Or may I worship them, and you?”

“I… the- the second one?” Hermione stammered, her knees feeling suddenly weak. “How…?”

“Firstly, it’s rude for me to keep you standing,” he said with a smirk. He swept her into his arms and she shrieked with laughter as he lifted her. He deposited her on the loveseat he’d vacated and expanded it to comfortably accommodate both of them with a flick of his hand. He settled beside her and ran his hand gently along her stomach.

“As for worshipping them, you’ll have to settle for me worshipping you. They are a part of you and as such, are just as worthy and brilliant as you. And I should very much like to kiss you.”

Hermione nodded mutely and Severus bent to capture her lips with his own. She responded with fervor, barely pulling away to breathe and seemingly intent on memorizing the shape of his mouth with her tongue. Her hands were no less busy, slipping buttons through their holes with surprising speed. He groaned into the kiss when she pulled the open shirt off him and ran her hands down his sides.

She pulled away with a gasp as her fingers brushed against a large scar, but he caught her fingers to hold them.

“What… what happened?” she asked.

“This one was a disemboweling curse that I managed to deflect,” he said, pointing to a twisted section of skin on his ribs. He pointed to others as he went, cataloging past injuries in a bland tone. “This one was my own sectumsempra attacking me when I was developing it. That’s why you should always practice on something inanimate. This one was my father’s cigarette. This one was a particularly stubborn Venomous Tentacula. This one…”

“What?” she asked when he trailed off while tapping a thin line on his shoulder blade. He chuckled.

“This one was from an enterprising third year who defended an escaped convict by attacking her teacher.”

She gasped, pressing her hands over her mouth in horror. But Severus’ shoulders shook and barely a moment passed before he burst into laughter.

“You’re teasing me,” she accused with a mixture of amusement and offense.

“I am,” he agreed and tapped it again. “Literal knife in my back. Nothing to do with know-it-alls who didn’t know better.”

She pouted, tracing the thin knife scar thoughtfully. “You’re teaching me a lesson.”

“Attempting to,” he said with a shrug before turning back around. “I may not be your professor anymore, and thank Merlin for it, but you can always learn something new. And now you’re more relaxed.”

She wrinkled her nose at him, not willing to concede the point, but the paleness had fled from her face. She reached up to caress his face gently.

“Will you continue, please? Before I start to think too much?”

He leaned into her caress and pressed a kiss into her palm. “I won’t let you think for long, Hermione. I promise.”

He set to work with hands and tongue and whispered words. He licked and nibbled and sucked on her skin as he released the clasp of her bra. It went flying and he laved attention on her breasts, sucking on her nipples until she squealed and writhed beneath him. He buried his face between them, breathing deeply of her musky, heady scent. He could drown in her and feel no regret, could love and caress her every day for the rest of their lives, could-

“Severus, move!” she growled in frustration. His hand was playing with the edge of her knickers, teasing the sensitive skin of her lower abdomen. With a muttered word, he banished them and captured her mouth again as his fingers dipped into her core.

She was so wet. Dripping and sensitive and perfect in every way. She panted into his mouth as he gently worked his fingers in and out. He curled one of them, finding the little bundle of nerves, and rubbed gently in a circle. She keened beneath him, her legs unable to hold still, but her arms held him close. She ground on his fingers with more enthusiasm than grace. He pressed his palm into her clit and pushed harder, faster with his curled finger.

She shattered around him, her warm walls clamping down hard on his hand as she screamed her completion. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she clung to him as she panted and rode his fingers. He could do nothing but hold her as she broke around him, and watch with admiration.

It took several long moments before her eyes regained their focus and she looked up at him with a brilliant smile.

“That was…” But he cut her off with an amused kiss.

“It was, but neither of us is done.”

He flicked a finger and his remaining clothes vanished, leaving him as nude as she. Hermione traced the lines of his body down, admiring his lean form until they settled on his cock.

“Oh,” she breathed, then gulped. “Oh my.”

“I promise I won’t hurt you,” Severus said seriously, warring with his animalistic pride. He wasn’t insecure about his size, but there was an instinctual satisfaction in seeing her so undone by him.

He moved to settle between her thighs and leaned down to kiss her thoroughly. He trailed hot, open-mouth kisses down her neck, paused to suck on each nipple, and dipped his tongue into her navel before finally burying his nose in the soft hair covering her mound. He nuzzled her gently before lathing her with his tongue in one long stroke. She moaned long and low, sliding one hand into his hair to hold him firmly against her. He slid one finger into her, thrusting softly as his mouth latched on to her clit. He was thorough, sucking and flicking his tongue on her bud but never spending enough time on one action to bring her to completion.

“Severus!” she whined. “For Merlin’s sake, let me come!”

He chuckled, releasing her clit from his mouth with a wet “pop.”

“Oh, you will,” he said, positioning himself at her entrance, “but you’ll do it with my cock in you.”

He slid to the hilt in one smooth motion and her walls clamped around him tightly. She fit him like a glove. She was made for him. She was-

She screamed her release again, tightening around him even more and it was all he could do to breathe and hold back his own orgasm. When she finally started coming down, he began to move.

Gently at first, shallow thrusts to make sure she was all right. Then a little faster, harder, deeper. Hermione murmured her approval and wound her arms around his neck, rolling her hips to match his rhythm.

“You’re not going to break me. Fuck me, Severus.”

Gentle flew right out the window as he levered hard, fast thrusts into her core. He leaned forward to wrap his arms around her and bury his face in the valley between her breasts. He moaned her name, no longer in control of his thrusts, lost in the feeling of her warmth around him. She whispered encouragement, her voice rising in tone and intensity as her pleasure grew.

She threw her head back into the cushions and screamed her release and her walls squeezed around him again. He groaned, let the pleasure take him, and followed her to his own completion. 

Minutes later, they cuddled together in the afterglow. Her head rested on his shoulder and she trailed fingers through the sparse hair on his chest. His hand was buried in her hair and he pressed lazy kisses onto her forehead.

“That was… wow.” She smiled up at him.

He returned her smile with a satisfied grunt, leaning down to kiss her again.

“Stop that or we’ll never leave,” she said with a soft smile.

“Is that such a cruel fate?”

She chuckled. “The Malfoys will want their library back eventually.”

“Perhaps, but they’re busy now.” He summoned a blanket and covered them both. “We will deal with them and the Weasleys later. For now, there’s nowhere else I would rather be.”

Fin. 


End file.
